Possession
by QueenOfTheFlame
Summary: Amber and her dad are new to town. They move into a house that's been vacant for the past three years, the reasons why are unknown. Until odd things begin to happen. Throw in an oujia board and a letter warning her of a 'dark creature' once living within her house and Amber begins to fall into a dark world filled with nothing but pain.


**_~ New House ~_**

"How'd you like the new house?" Dad asks cheerfully over a box of... something - probably just more junk.

I smile and roll my eyes when he trips over the curb. "Try to be careful dad, we want good memories here, not bad ones."

He nods, pursing his lips. "True. I don't want our first day here to be spent in the hospital."

I shake my head and walk ahead of him, carrying two boxes of my own stuff. "How can you have so much crap dad? Did we really need to take all of this with us? I thought it was a fresh start."

He chuckles softly and follows me towards the house. "This isn't junk! More like precious memories."

I turn, scoffing as I reach into the top box. The sellotape has already started peeling. Should have got the more expensive stuff. I reach in and grab the first thing I can, large with lots of pointy edges. I pull it out and hold it in front of his face. It's lamp but not an ordinary one. Made of cheap plastic, it's in the form of an evil Witch, pointing towards the lamp, turning it into a mushroom.

"Dad, what is this?" I ask, eyes narrowed slightly.

He raises an eyebrow. "A lamp?"

"No, this is not a lamp." I put it back in and reach into one of my boxes. It takes a moment of fishing about but finally I pull out a sleek, small black lamp. "This dad, this is a lamp. That is something that belongs in one of those fortune telling crazy people's home."

He narrows his eyes slightly. "You're feeling especially grumpy today, obviously."

I turn away from him, shaking my head. "I'm just tired."

"You can check out your room if you want." He suggests.

"Yeah, okay. Are you going to order pizza for dinner?" I ask innocently.

He gives me a disapproving look. "What happened to the fresh start?"

"Just for tonight?" I pout hopefully.

He lets out a sigh of disgust. "Fine, just take those puppy eyes elsewhere!"

"Thanks daddy!" I laugh as I lightly jog into the house.

It's nice. Spacious but empty at the moment. No furniture yet - not till tomorrow. At least dad made sure the beds got here just before us. Upstairs, my room is a lot more spacious than my last. Most likely because this is a two bedroom house, not a three.

The bed is bare, no sheet, just sitting there. I upgraded from single a few weeks ago, now this lovely big double bed fits perfectly into the wide room. The walls are white, the carpet a pale salmon. The window is large and I walk towards it, sliding it open with easy. Looking down, there's plenty of thick ivy. This is perfect, especially for sneaking out late at night...

A soft sound, like a slight hiss causes me to jerk around, heart racing suddenly. Nothing. Not a thing. I press my hand to my chest and shake my head, trying to rid it of thoughts focused around the odd experience.

With a heavy sigh, I make my way to my bed and throw myself onto it. It's been a long old day and I'm exhausted. Within a matter of seconds, I can feel myself slipping into sleep.

_Darkness surrounds me. Fills me. A whisper, low and seductive chases me. I run but trip, falling and falling into the deep chasm of blackness. It suffocates, slowly closing around me and that whisper continues. The words are indistinctive and impossible to understand. I cry out and fight the darkness, refuse to succumb to it, despite a delicious need, want inside of me._

I wake with a shocked gasp, my mind reeling from the intense dream.

"Amber, pizza's here - you coming or what?" Dad calls up.

Still groggy, I should down a yes, climbing unsteadily to my feet. The dream felt short and abrupt - and yet it's dark outside. How long was I asleep? Slightly shaken from the dream, I make my way downstairs. I've never had a dream like that. Ever.


End file.
